Shards of Glass
by VietAngel
Summary: Sam is living in the McQueen house and she feels like her life is spinning out of control. Just when she thinks all hope is lost, she finds some comfort from an unexpected source.
1. Sam

**Title**: Shards of Glass  
**Author**: VietAngel  
**Rating**: PG  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own these charaters and I make no profit from them.

* * *

Sam brushed the damp strands of hair from her face as she padded down the unfamiliar hallway. Normally a nice hot bubble bath as soon as she got home would have relaxed her and eased the tensions of the day…but not this time. This time nothing was helping to relieve the raging headache she was currently suffering from…not the bath, not the ibuprofen she was sure she had taken too much of, and certainly not this house. As she opened the door to the bedroom she was to occupy from now on, it suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks…this wasn't her home, this wasn't her sanctuary. This room…it was dark, industrial, sterile, and cold. She shivered and longed for her real room and her real home…the one with the warm, bright orange walls that she and her parents had painted together on her 13th birthday. The thought made her smile fleetingly. She sighed as she stepped into the room and kicked the door closed behind her. 

She began the daunting task of searching through the mountain of boxes that occupied the space to find something comfortable to wear. It took her a full twenty minutes to find socks, panties, a baby tee, and a comfy pair of fleece pajama pants…a task that would have taken her no more than five minutes had she been in her home, where she belonged. She slipped into the ensemble, but as a chill coursed through her body she felt like there was something missing. It didn't take long for it to come to her, and she was thankful that the missing item was among the few things she had unpacked that were now strewn across the bed. Her father's robe. It nearly swallowed her tiny frame whole, but she didn't care. She put it on and tightened the belt around herself as best she could. It made her feel small and warm…it was the closest she could get to being in his arms again.

She inhaled hoping to catch a trace of his cologne still lingering on it, but there was nothing. She'd never washed it, not since that night after his funeral when her mother had covered her with it as she slept in his favorite chair…but two years was a long time. It seemed like forever to her. There was no trace of him left on it now. Thinking about him seemed to make her already pounding head hurt more so she decided to lie down. It had been a rather uneventful day, yet she still felt exhausted. She cleared the items from her bed and placed them on top of a stack of boxes. Though there was nothing strenuous about the activity, she found that she didn't even have the energy to pull back the covers when she was finished, so she just sprawled out on top of the covers…not even bothering to kick off her fuzzy slippers.

Looking over to the night table to her right she saw that the clock read 5:15 p.m. It wasn't even dinnertime yet but she felt like a kid who had been up way past her bedtime. The fact that she hadn't eaten since lunch crossed her mind in brief, but she quickly came to the conclusion that sleep was more appealing to her than food at the moment. The clock wasn't the only thing on the night table that caught her eye. She clumsily reached over, knocking her bottle of ibuprofen on its side, and picked up a picture frame.

Joe McPherson, her father, the best dad ever…a man she would never lay eyes on again in this lifetime. Tears stung her eyes as she ran a trembling hand over the picture. It was still hard to believe that he was gone. Her heart still ached for him…now more than ever. As the tears began to flow freely down her face she couldn't feel anything except anger. She was angry that he was gone, angry that her mother had fallen in love with her arch rival's father, angry that she had been stripped of her home, her comfort zone, her happiness…all because he was gone.

Everything hurt, it all hurt so much. This was Brooke McQueen's house, Brooke McQueen's life…she didn't belong and she didn't want to. All she wanted was her life back. She wanted to be curled up in her nice warm bed, in her house that actually felt like a home, with the sound of her parents' laughter wafting through the air. The one thing she wanted most of all was the one thing she couldn't have…her dad. He was the one who always knew how to make everything okay. No matter what was going on in her life, no matter how bad she was feeling, he always found a way to make it better. This time he was what was broken. Her life had unexpectedly shattered into a million shards of glass and there wasn't enough superglue in the world to fix it. Daddy wasn't around to pick up the pieces anymore.

She hugged the frame to her chest and the emotions coursing through her began to become overwhelming. The ache in her head and the ache in her heart were too much to bear. She sloppily placed the picture back onto the night table face down and mustered enough strength to roll over onto her stomach.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember the way things used to be. When he was still alive he would be sit with her when she wasn't feeling well, stroking her hair and talking quietly with her until she fell asleep. She tried as hard as she could to reach into the farthest corners of her mind to conjure up the feel of his hands in her hair, but the memories weren't as sharp anymore. She inhaled sharply; her greatest fear was becoming reality. She was starting to forget him. The thought of not remembering him one day made her stomach roll and her head spin.

She wondered how long the pain would last. Would the dull ache in her chest ever fade? She didn't know how she could go on like this. She wanted her mother to be happy, but this was all happening faster than she could process it. She was afraid that she'd never adjust and be condemned to a miserable existence until she could leave for college.

"Why daddy? Why did you have to die?" she choked out as she clutched a pillow and began to sob uncontrollably into it.

Hot tears soaked into the fabric and quickly cooled. She cried and cried until she just couldn't cry anymore. Her sobs subsided into hiccups, her swollen eyelids drooped, and her body went limp…all the energy zapped away. She was uncomfortable and in unfamiliar surroundings, but she was too drained to grapple with it anymore. Finally, she stopped fighting and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

TBC…


	2. Jane

"Brooke, have you seen Sam?" Jane asked as she finished setting the table. It was time for dinner and everyone was at the table except Sam. She hadn't seen her daughter since she and Brooke arrived home from school and she had a nagging feeling that something was wrong.

"She took a bath as soon as she got home and then went to her room, I haven't seen her since," Brooke replied with a shrug.

That definitely made Jane a little curious. Sam had undoubtedly retreated into herself since her father died, but locking herself away in her room was unusual. Being in a new environment required some time to adjust. Maybe she just needed some space…maybe she was just being a moody teenager. It was probably nothing, but Jane's motherly instincts took over and she decided to go check on her daughter anyway.

"You guys go ahead and start dinner without me. I'm going to go see what's keeping Sam," Jane said to Mike and Brooke.

It wasn't unusual for Sam to get caught up in writing or a good book and forget about anything else she had to do…including eating, so Jane wasn't particularly worried.

"Sammy!" she called as she made her way down the hall toward her daughter's room. "Dinner's ready, sweetie."

She knocked lightly on the door, but Sam didn't answer. Maybe she was angry about something.

"Come on Sammy you have to eat so…" she started as the opened the door, but quieted as soon as she caught sight of her daughter.

Now she definitely knew something was wrong. It was 6:30 and Sam was in her pajamas and in the midst of a fitful sleep. Jane sighed as she walked over to the bed and sat down gently on the edge, being careful not to wake her tossing and turning beauty. Sam never went to bed this early. Jane felt her forehead thinking that maybe she wasn't feeling well, but she was cool to the touch. She was puzzled until she caught sight of Sam's red, swollen eyelids, and the tear tracks down her face. She had cried herself to sleep.

"Oh baby," she said as she tucked a strand of hair behind her daughter's ear. She looked over at the night table and saw the toppled bottle of ibuprofen and a picture frame she knew all too well. She righted the bottle, and the frame…not at all surprised to find her deceased husband's face staring back at her. It wasn't hard to put things together.

That robe that Sam was wrapped in, that was unmistakable. Joe. She knew for sure that her little girl was having a rough time now. She had given that to Sam after Joe's funeral because she could no longer stare at it hanging on their bathroom door. It brought back too many happy memories, too many thoughts that were hard for her to handle. Sam only curled up in that bathrobe when she was particularly troubled. That robe had been a constant in her life during the period of deep depression she went through after her father died.

Jane began to absentmindedly stroke her hair and rub her back in soothing circles, paying special attention to the downy soft fringe around her hairline. Sam sighed softly and calmed a bit, but never roused from her slumber. She couldn't help but think that maybe she was making the wrong decision here. Sure, she loved Mike, and she deserved to be happy again, but Sam deserved that too. She felt like a bad mother for forcing Sam into this move…for dragging her out of the home she grew up in, for being the cause of her misery.

Sam was her little girl, her baby…and her baby was in pain both mentally and physically. It was all her fault. No, it was Joe's fault. She stared angrily at his picture. If he hadn't died they would still be a happy little family living in their warm comfortable home. She knew it wasn't his fault, but she couldn't help it. She would give anything to be able to come home and find Sam and Joe huddled together around the computer hashing out an article.

She leaned in close and began to whisper softly into Sam's ear. "Sammy, baby, I love you more than anything in this world. I thought…I don't know, I just thought that this would be good for both of us. Honey, you've got to know that I didn't do this to hurt you or to make you uncomfortable…and I'm certainly not trying to replace your father. I—I just want to see you happy again."

Maybe she was doing the wrong thing. If the current situation was making Sam that unhappy, maybe moving in with Mike and Brooke had happened too soon. She just couldn't stand to see her miserable like this. They needed to talk but she couldn't bear to wake her. In her head she planned to come wake her early tomorrow morning, she'd ditch work and excuse Sam from school, and they'd have a mother/daughter day out. They hadn't spent any real quality time together in quite a while.

Once again her motherly instincts were nagging at her. She removed the fuzzy slippers and socks from Sam's feet, and then she carefully eased her out of her father's robe and placed it neatly on a chair. After rummaging through several boxes she finally found what she was looking for…Sam's favorite down comforter. She smiled as she tucked it around the sleeping teenager, it reminded her of all the times she'd tucked her in as a little girl.

"Us against the world, babe. Always," she whispered as she bent over and planted a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead. She drew the curtains closed then quietly made her exit. Her mind was still reeling as she made her way back downstairs to the kitchen.

"Jane? Is everything okay? Where's Sam?" Mike asked, genuinely concerned. She was so preoccupied his voice had actually startled her a bit.

"Yes…no…I mean, she's not coming down, she's sleeping off a bad headache," Jane replied.

Mike nodded but didn't ask any more questions, while Jane sat down to her now cold dinner and hoped that everything would turn out for the best.

TBC…


	3. Joe

This was supposed to be a place of peace and serenity, a place where all was right with the world…but it wasn't for Joe McPherson. He found it hard to be at peace when his family wasn't. His wife was in turmoil, and his daughter was so miserable that she cried herself to sleep. He wanted nothing more than to be able to comfort her…comfort them both really, but Sam, Sam was his priority.

Jane had left the room almost an hour ago but he just couldn't tear himself away. There was something comforting about watching his little girl sleep, even when it was fitful. As he stood beside her bed, unseen and unheard, he wished more than anything that he could just gather her in his arms and tell her it would all be okay.

Jane was the love of his life, his high school sweetheart, the woman who had given him the greatest gift any man could possibly receive…his daughter. She had found love with another man and he was fine with that, he was actually happy for her, and that was surprising even to him. He didn't love her any less, and he could feel that she still held him in her heart…but she had grieved long enough, and he was glad she was finally starting to let go. Turning his attention back to his daughter, he wished she could let go too.

Sam had always idolized him…he had been her hero, her knight in shining armor. He couldn't help but feel like he had let her down, or broken a promise to her. He was dead, and she felt like she was all alone. Little did she know he was always watching her and always with her when she needed him. She had a headache and he smiled thinking about all the times they had talked quietly in the darkness of her room until she had forgotten the pain and fallen asleep.

They had a lot of good times. There was no doubt that Sam loved her mother, but she was definitely daddy's little girl. Sam and Joe McPherson…inseparable and unstoppable. He would gladly spend and eternity burning in the deepest depths of hell if he could just spend one more day with her.

Sunday…Sundays used to be so perfect. He and Jane would wake up at the crack of dawn and head downstairs. Jane would start on a huge breakfast, and he would offer to help but inevitably get kicked out of the kitchen for screwing something up and setting off the smoke alarm…which would wake Sam. He'd settle down in the family room to start on the Sunday paper. Sam would always come curl up against him and attempt to read over his shoulder with sleepy eyes. Without fail she'd fall asleep with her head resting on his shoulder and he wouldn't wake her until breakfast was ready. He wondered if she remembered.

The fear, anger, and hurt were rolling off of her in waves. She was hurting so much, and it broke his heart. No father in his right mind could stand to see his baby, his little girl, hurting like Sam was. Sometimes he wondered if he was really in hell instead of where he thought he was…watching his family suffer was cruel and unusual punishment.

She was so beautiful…she always had been. He laughed as he thought back to the first time he had ever laid eyes on her. That night in the hospital as he held her while Jane slept, he remembered thinking she was the most beautiful, most perfect thing he had ever seen. It was their first father/daughter moment and she became his reason for being. He thought back to the first day she smiled at him. She was six weeks old and had grabbed hold of both his index fingers with her tiny little hands, so small they couldn't even wrap all the way around. She held on to him like she was afraid that he would disappear if she let go and she smiled…a radiant smile, all gums.

That smile, that crooked Sam McPherson smile…it was what made it all worth it. It was the one thing that could always brighten his day. No matter what was going on in his life, no matter how bad his day was, she could always cheer him up. That smile was the reason she had always had him wrapped around her little finger. She would bat those big brown doe eyes at him and flash him a smile and her wish would be his command.

His eyes were drawn to her once more, his sleeping beauty. She grew more beautiful every year. Now his gorgeous little girl was a gorgeous young woman…a gorgeous and unhappy young woman. He felt like he had failed her somehow. He was her father, he was supposed to protect her from any harm or pain…instead he had been the one to cause her pain.

He would never get the chance to intimidate her dates, or threaten to kill the first boy who broke her heart, or walk her down the aisle on her wedding day. He would never get to help her with another article, or be the proudest man in the world when one of her articles made the front page of a major paper. He would never get to be a doting grandfather. It all made him so angry.

He watched as she flailed her limbs wildly, desperately trying to get comfortable…or fight off her nightmares, which one he didn't know. He knew it would be in vain, but he was her father and it was his job to comfort her as best he could. He moved closer to her bed and began to talk into her ear. He knew she couldn't hear him, but he hoped that somehow his words would penetrate her dreams:

_Sammy, it's me. I'm sorry, I'm so very sorry about what I've put you through. I can't stand to see you hurting like this and if I could change things I would. There's nothing I want more than to be able to come back to you and your mom and have us live happily ever after…but that can't happen. Try not to be angry with your mom for finding love again. I'm the one you should be angry with._

_Your mom…she's just trying to be happy again and she wants you to be happy too. She's not trying to replace me…she couldn't even if she wanted to. Mike's a good guy, he's good to your mom and he'll be good to you if you give him a chance…if he wasn't I'd defy the laws of nature to come back and kick his ass, but I don't think I'll need to do that._

_I'll always love you my darling…I'll always be with you. You won't be able to see me or hear me, but I'll be there in your heart. Please try to give this situation a chance. I know it's uncomfortable and I know you miss home, but it wasn't a good place for you and your mom anymore. You two would never be able to move on in a place that held so much of me. _

_It hurts me to see you like this, Sammy. You keep your head up and you stay strong. You're the strongest person I know and you can get through anything…even this. I know it seems like things will never be good again, but they will. I promise. Make the best of it. Daddy loves you, always._

She had calmed by the time he finished. She wasn't tossing and turning anymore and her breathing was slow and steady. He could've have sworn he'd even seen her lips curl into a little smile. Maybe she'd heard him…he sure hoped so. As he prepared to leave her in peace, he couldn't help but try to stroke her hair and kiss her cheek even though he knew it wasn't really possible. He had the feeling she would be okay somehow, and he held on to that as he faded away.

TBC…


	4. Epilogue

Samantha McPherson's nightmare suddenly faded and was replaced by the most amazing dream. She found herself walking along a beach with her father. It was a warm, sunny day…the sand was blindingly white and the water was the most amazing blue. Though his lips weren't moving, and there was nothing audible, she became vaguely aware that he was talking to her. She wouldn't be able to repeat a word of what he was saying if asked, but somehow she sensed what he was trying to tell her.

She was saddened as she sensed that he needed to leave her, but she didn't stay that way for long. An overwhelming feeling of peace and serenity washed over her and somehow she knew that everything would be okay. It's what he wanted her to know. He moved in to kiss her, but instead of his lips she felt a cool breeze caress her cheek and her long auburn tresses. He disappeared into thin air, and then just like that, she woke up.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly and she found herself alone in her drab room at the McQueen house instead of on a beautiful beach with her father. She could still feel the tingle of the breeze that had caressed her cheek in her dream. She glanced toward the window wondering if it was open…that breeze had felt so real. It was closed and so was the bedroom door. There was no way that breeze was real, unless her dad…no, no way.

She still felt that overwhelming sense of peace. Remembering how upset she had been earlier, she didn't know how it was possible to feel so calm now. She knew that everything would be okay…somehow it would all work out. Her mom, her dad, and herself…three shards of broken glass that could never be put back together again. She didn't know how, or when…but she knew that their sharp edges would dull over time, and trying to hold onto each other wouldn't hurt so much one day.

It went against all her practical sensibilities, but she believed that her dad had somehow managed to help her. Her senses were overwhelmed with his presence even though there were no tangible signs. He had been there…she knew it; nobody would ever be able to convince her otherwise. It didn't freak her out…she was actually comforted by it, and it made her smile. She yawned as sleep beckoned to her again…she knew there wouldn't be any nightmares this time, just blissful sleep. As she closed her eyes and drifted slowly into that space between wakefulness and slumber, she softly uttered five little words that she hoped would reach his ears…

"Thanks daddy, I love you."

Fin


End file.
